


Write Ya Later

by NexusPhenomena



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Deadpool, BAMF Spiderman, Fluff, M/M, Soulmate AU, Tumblr Prompt, soulmate au where instead of having a name tattooed on you, you get to see whatever your soulmate writes on themselves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 18:54:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6483085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NexusPhenomena/pseuds/NexusPhenomena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pity.<br/>Pity was the worst emotion that Peter had gotten used to over the years. He could never figure out if the pity was worse than the jealousy that he felt to watch everyone else's happiness.</p><p>In the first grade, he had his first encounter with what the teacher had called the ‘Soul Markings’. They had appeared on a student in the middle of the class. Peter could still remember it quite vividly. It was a poorly drawn flower with pink and purple flower petals and an orange center. It had been all over the place and most of the lines didn’t connect, but they were still there. Even though the teacher told the class that they were completely normal and something for each person to enjoy on their own; the remainder of the class was spent talking about the soul markings or drawing on each other’s arms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Write Ya Later

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the exact prompt from tumblr:
> 
> Soulmate au where when you write something on your skin with pen/marker/whatever the hell you want, it will show up on your soul mates skin as well.
> 
>  
> 
> {Yellow}  
> [White]
> 
> 'italic Words' means that it is being written.

Pity.  
  
Pity was the worst emotion that Peter had gotten used to over the years. He could never figure out if the pity was worse than the jealousy that he felt to watch everyone else's happiness.  
  
In the first grade, he had his first encounter with what the teacher had called the ‘Soul Markings’. They had appeared on a student in the middle of the class. Peter could still remember it quite vividly. It was a poorly drawn flower with pink and purple flower petals and an orange center. It had been all over the place and most of the lines didn’t connect, but they were still there. Even though the teacher told the class that they were completely normal and something for each person to enjoy on their own; the remainder of the class was spent talking about the soul markings or drawing on each other’s arms. Even Peter had gotten wrapped up in it. Needless to say, his parents were not too thrilled about all the colorful drawings on his body. When Peter explained that they were important, his soulmate was going to see them. His mother couldn’t help but coo over him. She brought him up close to her, hugging him tight. She placed a kiss on his head and told him that he still had to have a bath because he couldn’t go to school like this. Peter fought her, but eventually gave in when his mom promised him that he could draw even more the next day.  
  
When Peter had been dropped off at his Aunt and Uncle’s house a few days later, they asked Peter about why he was so colorful. He dramatically retold them about the student who had gotten a mark on their arm in the middle of class. He was drawing on himself to let his soulmate know that he existed. His aunt just smiled and told him to get cleaned up for dinner.  
  
Every day, Peter would draw something on each of his arms and then watch himself to see if he would get anything in return. Even when his parents didn’t come home when they said they would, he drew. Even when all his other friends had gotten a response back, he kept drawing. Even when the bullies started to pick on him, he kept drawing. Only after nearly everyone in the school were getting replies, Peter finally stopped. He began wearing longer sleeves to cover up the shame he felt. He had only hoped that people would leave him alone. It only fueled the bullies even more.  
  
A freak was the most common name he got called. He was honestly disappointed that they wouldn’t come up with any more interesting ones. And after some time, he just zoned them out, nothing they would do or say hurt him anymore.  
He limped home one day after school only to hear his aunt shriek and quickly bring him inside. She sat him down and demanded to hear what had happened. Typically Peter would just scoff it off and tell her that he was clumsy, but today, he couldn’t stop his mouth.  
  
“I’m a freak, Aunt May.”  
  
Aunt May looked at him shocked, frozen in place, “Why would you say that?”  
  
“Because I don’t have any soul markings. I have no soul mate.” Peter tightened his fists on his legs, refusing to make eye contact with her.  
  
“Oh Peter.” His aunt sighed, she placed her hands on top of his, “Sweetheart, that doesn’t make you a freak. You’re just a late bloomer.”  
  
“A late bloomer?”  
  
“Mm-hm, not everyone gets markings on their arm in school, why in fact.” She brought her hand under Peter’s chin and had him look at her, “Your parents were late bloomers too.” She had a soft smile on her face with a sympathetic look in her eyes.  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Yep. In fact, why don’t we get you cleaned up and you can ask your Uncle all about it when he gets home.” She offered.  
  
Peter nodded and smiled. They remained silent while Aunt May cleaned him up. He knew he could have very easily done it himself, but sometimes he had to humor her. When she placed the last bandage on him, she gave him a tight hug and a kiss on the forehead, “You’ll find them sweetheart. When you need them the most, that’s when they’ll appear. Don’t be in such a hurry.” She pulled away and walked into the kitchen to get everything ready. Peter remained seated on the couch, trying his hardest to believe his aunt’s words.  
  
True to his word, he asked his Uncle about his parents being late bloomers and he regaled Peter is the wildest stories he ever heard. He couldn’t help but be dragged into the excitement and before he knew it, he was being tucked into bed. He fell into a dreamless sleep, thanking his brain for not fueling the idea that his soul mate was still out there.  
  
This routine continued, Peter would come home with bruises and most of the time; he took care of them himself. Then they would have dinner as a family and Peter would throw himself into his homework. He became bitter to the idea of a soul mate, but that didn’t stop him from doing research to see if there was some kind of information about people who didn’t get response. Finally, he gave up. He knew that if he was meant to have someone, they would show themselves.  
  
Quite a few years had passed and so many changes happened in his life. He had attempted to ignore how blank he felt while others were filled with life. While also battling with Flash and his goons, he had to deal with the sudden loss of his uncle and becoming Spiderman. Needless to say, high school had been a trial. Peter was so grateful to get out of there. Much to his aunt’s prodding; he applied and was accepted into a college nearby.  
  
Sitting in a lecture class a few days into his first year, he felt an odd tingling sensation on his arm. At first, he ignored it, and then it began to itch. So he responded by scratching through his sleeve. It didn’t give him any relief. He silently groaned as he briskly pushed up his sleeve only to be met with heavy black text on his arm. He watched wide-eyed as the text suddenly appeared. The text appeared to be names but it was jumbled into some kind of code. He continued to watch the text like his life depended on it. All this time, he had thought that he didn’t have a soul mate and now, after all these years, he finally had one. It took all his strength to not start celebrating at this exact moment. He quickly closed his eyes and reopened them to see if he was just dreaming, but there it was; a shiny list of names.  
  


~*~

Wade Wilson never believed in the whole soul mate, soul marking thing. He liked to believe that it was all within his own destiny to pick who he would fall in love with and who was perfect for him. After all, how could some random mark tell him who he was destined for? The problem was that even though Wade believed this with every ounce of his being, he was still a true romantic. He would dream of the moment that he would meet them, it didn’t matter what they looked like or if they were male or female; all that mattered is they would love him. That they could deal with all his quirks.

He still could remember when his markings first started. They looked so innocent and sweet. It made him feel dirty. This was a child. His soul mate was a child. He wouldn’t dare write back. How creepy was that?! In what universe did someone thing that a child was a good match for a man barely in his twenties? He could still remember the looks that he got whenever someone saw his arms. Why was this kid drawing on their arms? Weren’t they in school? Hadn’t the teacher told them not to constantly draw on themselves? He had gotten used to covering up. He had too; there was no way that he could expose these childish drawings to the world. Even though he knew the world was spitting in his face, he waited for the drawings to appear. The innocent made him smile. It helped take his mind off the growing cancer and the inevitable joining of Project X.

All the torment and pain he endured during the process was bearable thanks to the little doodles. Even on his new scarred flesh, they were like a beacon of light. He could tell the kid was aging because of how the doodles were changing. It made him smile, maybe he’ll be able to actually meet them someday. Then the voices started.

{Who would want to meet you? You look like a dog shit on the carpet!}

[Smell about the same too.]

{Man you’re taking my lines!}

[No, it wasn’t your line. I was merely adding on.]

{Line stealer.}

[You are such a child.]

For hours, they would go on. They were a good enough distraction that for the longest time, he didn’t even notice that the doodles began to fade. It wasn’t until he had finally gotten away and began to cover himself up that his skin didn’t give him an itchy tingle. He sat on the couch of his newly acquired apartment, staring at his blank arm. There had been nothing for days and somehow he had managed to keep the voices at bay. He continued to stare for hours.

[Kid’s probably dead. Better off that way.]

{Yeah! No distractions! They always mess up the fun parts!}

[I wasn’t exactly thinking that, but it’s the fact that we’re very clearly insane.]

{Oooooh… Yeah, that’s a good point.}

“He’s not dead.” He gruffly said.

[Look! He speaks! Then what do you think happened, hm?]

“Probably got bored of trying to talk to someone that doesn’t exist. Shouldn’t exist really.”

{Wow, that was bleak!}

[I’d say. I thought we were the only ones that could rip apart your self-esteem! What are we even here for then?]

{Yeah! Trying to kick us out of a job?}

[Rude!]

“Will you two knock it OFF!?” He growled, standing up in such a frenzy that he flipped over the coffee table.

{Macho Man Randy Savage!}

He growled, pulling out his pistol that was latched to his side and firing off a round of bullets into the brick wall. He let out a dissatisfied huff as he threw the empty pistol onto the ground. He needed an outlet. He needed to find something to take all these feelings out on. He wasn’t even all that sure where this rage was coming from. He had no idea if it’s because he actually believed the voices. Was this kid dead? Maybe this kid wasn’t actually his soul mate or was it that he had found another soul mate. But wouldn’t he still see the markings from the kid that he would be giving the other person? This was giving him a headache.

{You?! What do you think you’re doing to us?!}

[You’re just so selfish today. First you ruin ALL those bullets, now you’re making OUR heads hurt.]

{So rude. My eyes have gone cross-eyed!}

[You don’t have eyes. We’re literal voices.]

{Sshhhhh! He doesn’t know that!}

[I’m pretty sure he does. He might be dumb, but he’s not THAT dumb.]

Wade growled, slamming the heel of his hands into his forehead. He clutched his eyes closed, holding his hands on his forehead. He slowly let his hands slide down to rub into his eyes. He needed to calm down. This room was too closed off. He needed to get out of here. He needed fresh air. He needed! The rush of air blowing by his head was bringing him back. He let out a loud, pained grunt when he felt a solid force greet him.

He wasn’t sure how long he was out, or even when he actually came too. All he knew was that he was suddenly in a tropic area and he had a gun in his hand.

[Ah, look who returns to the living. Thought we had lost him]

{Awwww, that’s a shame! We were having fun.}

He grunted, already forgetting about his panic induced jump and the loss of his comfort blanket of drawings. He lost himself in his work. At first, he tended to lean more seriously towards his work, but over a short amount of time, he loosened up and completely forgot why he was being so serious. The furthest thing from his mind now was the kid that had gotten him through some of the toughest years of his life. Occasionally while he laid away at night, he would look down at his scarred arms as if he was expecting something to be there. He knew there was something missing, but he wasn’t exactly sure what it was. All it would do would piss him off and make him extra explosive the next day.

This seemed to become the routine for the next few years. He delved more into wearing his typical red and black and less of baring his naked flesh for the world to see. Little by little he willfully suppressed his memories of happier thoughts, he needed to be more efficient and he couldn’t let his mind wander too far. Well, okay it would wander, but at least he wouldn’t dwell on a possibility that could never happen. Why torture himself?

He sat perched on the edge of a building, donned in his lovely Deadpool outfit, watching his victim through a sniper scope. He took in a deep breath. Waiting for the perfect shot, aaaaand there it was. This guy was ignorant enough to open the window and then lean over. This was perfect, now he didn’t have to worry about glass and with how high he was, he was going to make a beautiful splat. The recoil from the gun as he fired rocked back into him. He watched the body tumble away.

{One done!}

[Three more to go.]

{Why’d we say that we’d get those done today?}

[We didn’t. Meat for brains spaced and forgot about them.]

“Hey, in all fairness, they are paying shit wages for these, so they can wait.” He grumbled back, starting to break down his gun.

[So why did we take them?]

“They are bad, bad people.”

[Yeah, cause we’re clearly not bad, bad people, right?]

{Wait, I thought we were!}

[Sarcasm]

{Well, it’s very hard to tell. You don’t exactly have a face that gives it away}

[Even if I did, I HIGHLY doubt you’d see it on my face. Sarcasm is in the voice.]

{Then you need a better voice.}

[You’re one to talk.]

{What’s THAT supposed to mean?!}

“Guys, I can’t concentrate here. I’m trying to remember who is next on the list, but I can’t exactly think about it with you two bickering like an old married couple up there.”

[Well then, write it down!]

“You know, that’s not a bad idea.” He reached into his Deadpool Handy Pack™ (patent pending) and pulled out a black sharpie. He searched through his pouches, trying to find something to write on, “Damn it. Now I’m out of paper.”  
He couldn’t and wouldn’t write on his outfit, so he pushed up one of the sleeves and began writing down the hits that he needed to do still. When he finished writing them down, he stared at his handiwork and smiled, “There. Now let’s go make some heads roll!” He threw his gun over his shoulder and skipped off to the fire escape.

~*~

If someone would have told Peter that he would get his first markings when he was well on his way into his twenties, he would have called you insane. He would have straight laughed at the person if they told him he was going to get it in the middle of class and cause an uproar because he couldn’t contain himself. Then only to be told by a world renowned scientist to return only when he was serious about learning was just an added embarrassing bonus.

The speed in which Peter ran back to his apartment was legendary. He had to mentally tell himself that he couldn’t go swinging around New York without his suit. When he got into his dingy apartment, he slammed the door closed with his body. He looked down at his arm, still in disbelief that this was real. Why had he gotten lucky now? Was he really going to question this?

‘Oh my god!’ A thought rushed through Peter’s head.

‘I stopped writing!’ The thought that this other person must had gotten worried or worse over the fact that he just stopped one day in high school made him want to hit himself, “They probably thought I died!” His hands collided with his face as he pulled at his cheeks, “I’m an idiot!”

‘Well…’ He thought to himself, ‘No time like the present.’ He pushed himself off the door and into his tiny kitchen. He snagged a pen off the counter and pushed it to his flesh. He froze, questioning himself, “What am I supposed to say?” He turned his attention to the coded names on his arm, “Should I respond to these? HOW should I respond to these?” He chewed on his lower lip as he continued to stare at the thick black lines. He wondered about this other person, clearly they were very secretive or else they wouldn’t have used a code. As he stared, the tingle came back and he watched a thick black line go through one of the names.

Before he could think even more on it, he wrote, _‘Why did you cross it out?’_ He stared at his own handwriting, when the realization slammed into him, “OH MY GOD!” He slammed his hands into his face, barely missing the pen marking up his face. Wouldn’t that be a nice surprise for this person? A question and a line on the face.

~*~

Wade watched the body collapse in the building and giggled, “Dropped like a sack of potatoes! Ha!” He moved from the gun, only to make gun shapes with his hands and make overly comedic gun noises.

[Niiice. Real classy.]

“Who said I’m classy?” He “holstered” his hand guns.

{I like to think I’m classy}

[You’re as classy as a wet noodle.]

{Mmm… Noodles}

“Noodles sound sooooo good right now.” He agreed, “Well before that. That’s two down thank you! Two more to go!” He pulled his sharpie out and rolled up his sleeve. He drew a thick black line through the top name, “That always feels so nice.”

[{What}]

“Markin’ through a list.” He put the sharpie back into his pocket and was about to roll his sleeve back, when he felt a tingling sensation that he hadn’t felt in years. He looked down at his scarred arm only to see neat chicken scratch appear.

["Why did you cross it out?"]

{Hooooo boy do we have a story for them! Quick, get that marker back out}

[Moron! Don’t you realize what this is?]

{No what?}

[Didn’t you forget what this whole prompt was?]

{Clearly I’ve missed a step somewhere}

[This is the whole 'when you have a soulmate, instead of a name tattooed on you, they see what you write or draw on yourself.' Moron.]

{OOoooh right! I forgot.}

He was frozen. All he could do was staring. Slowly those happy memories of children’s drawings come forward and he is left staring dumbly at his bare skin. He took a step back, only to fall back down onto his knee.

“Fuck.”

[Ever so eloquent.]

“Fuck off.” He used his free hand to grab his arm, “I thought they were dead!”

[Apparently not dead enough]

{Oooh! Zombie soulmate! Let this be a thing}

[Zombies don’t have the motor function to write, idiot.]

{You never know. It could be one of those fics.}

Wade kept staring. He had to answer. How old was this kid? Oh god. They were still a kid probably; he couldn’t do that to this innocent person. He couldn’t bring them into his insanity. What kind of person was cursed with having him for a soul mate? Should he write back? If he did, he was committed. If he wrote back, he needed to tell this kid to find someone else. They could never meet. They needed someone better than him. He grabbed his sharpie again, pulling the cap off and wrote, _‘Don’t.’_

~*~

Peter looked at the bold _‘Don’t’_ that was now are his arm. He couldn’t stop the rush of excitement that filled his stomach. He began to chew on his lip again as he debated whether or not to answer. His curiosity won out as he wrote out, ‘Why?’

~*~

Wade could seriously use something to punch as he glared at the innocent _‘Why?’_ On his arm.

{Oooh he’s persistent}

[I didn’t even know you knew that word]

{I get around!}

He growled as he angrily wrote back, _‘Because I’m dangerous.’_ He refused to continue this conversation, throwing a little temper tantrum as he shoved the lid back on the sharpie and threw the marker off the side of the building. He pulled his sleeve back down and focused on his gun. He just needed to finish these two jobs and work on getting another one that took all his focus. After deconstructing his gun, he walked along the back alleys to get to his next target. He ignored the tingling that was going through his arm. He wasn’t going to scratch it. He was just going to forget that it was there.

~*~

Peter stared at the _‘Because I’m dangerous’_ written out in shaky words. He would be lying if he didn’t admit to himself that he was a bit nervous about how dangerous this person was. Then he remembered what he did in his spare time and he laughed. If his soul mate was dangerous, then they must have been meant for each other.

 _‘I’m used to danger in my life.’_ He wrote back before setting his pen down. He waited for a response for a little while before his stomach protested about being ignored. He put together a pathetic sandwich from what he had left in his fridge before going over to his couch and flopping down. He munched away while watching the local news go about a breaking story. He was only half paying attention, more focused on his arm and whether or not he would be getting a reply. After a few minutes passed, he grew jittery. Why weren't they replying to him?

'Okay, calm down Peter. They probably got busy. Maybe they were serious about being dangerous? That would be your lot in life, wouldn't it?' He thought to himself. 'First things first. You can't spend the rest of your day sitting here like a love sick puppy. You do have homework to do, laundry that's been sitting in out for weeks now, and you haven't talked with Aunt May in a while. Distract yourself!' He nodded, shoving his sleeve back down.

Peter wished he could have said that he spent the rest of the evening distracting himself from his arm. He really wished he could say that he was successful in working on his homework or doing his laundry. But that wasn't the case. In fact, he had called Aunt May, excited to tell her about his new discovery, but then he had remembered that she went on a trip with some of her friends, much to Peter's own prodding. He spent the rest of the evening and even late into the night attempting to do his homework. He had gotten it done around 2 in the morning, only because he was getting distracted by the one thing he was trying to ignore. The next morning, he raced to get some breakfast and get to work on time. Of course, he was a few minutes late, but no one noticed. He had to listen to Jameson's rant about Spiderman and lazy workers, which was always a joy, but he managed to get out of the meeting without even one sneer. A victory for Peter.

Peter was starting a sickeningly obsessive routine after his first markings showed. Every morning he would check his body, then he would shower, brush his teeth and eat breakfast. If he had to go to class, he would purposely write his notes on his arms and he would wait for a response. More often than not, all he would be doing would be writing to himself. Once in a blue moon, he would get a response. It was always the same 'Don't.', but it gave Peter hope. If he had to go to work, he typically would check only when he had a spare moment. Then he would go home, work on homework if need be and then spend the evening writing random things on his arm. Anything that was on his mind, he'd write down; hoping that this would convince his soul mate that it was okay.

~*~

Wade was being driven crazy. No matter how many times he ignored the random words that would appear on his skin, they would keep coming. This was insanity and he knew a thing or two about insanity.

{I think it's cute!}

[Well that's rare. You never think anything is cute.]

{What are you talking about? I think EVERYTHING is cute}

[Yeah, emphasize on everything. But you never say it out loud!]

{As you keep reminding me, I'm a voice. Where else would I keep that info?}

[Hey man, what you do in your spare time is your business, I don't want to know.]

{Rude}

Normally the voices would derail him from his train of thoughts, but with the constant tingling coming from his arms, he couldn't focus on anything else. He nearly screwed up a big hit for a client because of the constant tingles. He needed to get this under control or else he'll be out of a job. As he was trying to think of something to take his mind off of the tingling, he felt the sensation run through his arm. His response was to punch a hole in his wall.

{Hey! What did that wall do to you?}

[Guess it had it coming. The big guy can't exactly handle emotions.]

"Shut up." He spoke through gritted teeth. He pulled his fist clean and watched as it was already starting to heal.

{Maybe you should just blow your brains out? That usually helps.}

"That's a temporary solution. I need a permanent one."

{Ooooh.... You're shit out of luck!}

"Very helpful." He grounded his teeth as he stormed into his bedroom, collapsing onto his bed.

[Well, you could always just respond to the kid. Explain everything to them.]

"That's a conversation that has to be face to face. You can't tell a life story on flesh. There isn't enough on either of us to tell the whole thing." He brought his head into his pillow, running his gloved hands over his bald head.

{I still think it's cute.}

Wade groaned and pushed his face further into the pillow.

~*~

Over time, Peter started to loosen up on routine of obsessing. He would still check in the morning and at night, but he had gotten used to never getting a reply back. He still had hope, but he wasn't going to push. Clearly this person wasn't much of a talker and seemed pretty stubborn on repeating the one word. It worked for him, his class-load had gotten more intense and it left him with little to no time for patrols nor a social life.

One night he was hunched over his secondhand desk, trying to figure out a partially difficult history question. He wasn't even sure why they were shoving all these history classes down his throat. He frustratingly ran his fingers through his hair as his other hand drummed his pen on the open book in front of him. Just to get out his frustrations, he tore his hand from his hair and shoved the baggy sweater sleeve up.

 _'Who the fuck cares about why the British invaded India?!'_ He wrote thickly on his own arm. He stared at it for a second, not expecting anything in return. He turned to the text book and tried to keep reading when a tingle shot through his arm.

 

_'Not exactly an easy answer kid. There are many factors. The people of India weren't exactly unified, the caste system didn't help. Not to mention India had ports that the British Empire wanted. This was also at the height of England's empire and they had a strong military force as well as a strong sense of how to colonize the countries that they took control of. And just so you know. I care.'_

 

Peter stared at his arm, quickly writing back, _'I won't lie. I wasn't expecting a response back.'_

 

_'Clearly. I don't think I've ever seen you cuss.'_

__

 

 _'Well, history does that.'_ Peter took a moment and watched his arm. He chew on his lower lip as he added, _'I'm not a kid.'_

__

 

_'Could have fooled me with that chicken scratch.'_

__

 

_'Excuse you. I have perfectly fine handwriting.'_

__

 

_'If you're a chicken.'_

__

 

_'Nobody calls me chicken!'_

__

 

_'Alright Marty McFly. Get back to your high school project.'_

__

 

_'Not high school. College.'_

__

 

_'Well that makes me feel a little better.'_

 

Peter laughed as he watched the words getting smaller, _'Hold on.'_ He got out of his chair, walking over to his sink and washing everything, but the person's response about why England invaded India. He still needed help with his homework after all. When all the ink was cleared away he wrote, _'Worried I was jailbait?'_

__

 

_'Kid. You have no idea how hard it is to explain to people you have children's drawings on your arms.'_

__

 

_'Ohmygod. You actually got all those!?'_

__

 

_'Shit.'_

__

 

_'I thought I didn't have anyone!'_

__

 

_'Yeah well. You got some nobody. So congrats.'_

__

 

_'Aren't you the least bit excited about any of this?'_

__

 

_'Oh yeah. Absolutely thrilled to have some kid as a soul mate. I don't know who you pissed off in a past life, but sorry.'_

__

 

_'Why?'_

__

 

_'Cause you're stuck with me. Look, kid.'_

__

 

_'Not a kid.'_

__

 

_'Look kid. You said you were in college, yeah? Clearly you want a better future. There is no future with me. Why don't you forget about me and try to find someone else, huh?'_

__

 

_'This doesn't work that way.'_

__

 

_'Fake it til you make it.'_

__

 

_'Can I at least get you name?'_

__

 

_'Too dangerous.'_

__

 

_'Please.'_

 

Wade looked down at the single word and something in his chest twisted. He couldn't give this kid his name and he definitely couldn't give him his other name. He clicked his tongue before replying, _'Just call me W.'_ He put the pen down and as he was pushing his sleeve down, he saw a reply.

 

_'Hi W. I'm Peter.'_

 

Well, at least now he knew the kid's name. He let himself smile before pushing the sleeve down. He rolled over on his bed, falling into a dreamless sleep. It had taken quite a bit of willpower and sheer stubbornness that he had finally buckled to the idea of Peter talking with him. He still wanted to convince him that he needed to move on and not try to find him. Peter didn't need Wade and all his drama to drag him down. This kid seemed pretty smart.  Nearly as stubborn as he was, but innocent and clean. Wade couldn't be the one to dirty this kid. He very well could, but he didn't want that on his mind.

  


~*~

[I think you should just accept it.]

"WHAAAAT?!" Wade froze. The voices had been quiet lately, leaving him to think on his own. He hated being in his own head. It terrified him. Thinking brought up all the darkness from his past that he had desperately tried to hide; he didn't need that coming back. He dropped the dish that he was cleaning, "Why are you suddenly changing your mood?! You were all gun-ho on me ignoring this!"

[Kind of.]

"Kind of?"

[You see. I never really said to ignore him. Maybe Yellow did, but I didn't. I just questioned why he'd want to meet your ugly mug.]

{Hey! Hey! Don't you blame me! I didn't say ANYTHING about ignoring!}

[Ah. There you go. You were the one who decided on ignoring Peter.]

Wade opened his mouth to snap back a remark, but found that he couldn't find anything. They were right. They never said anything about ignoring Peter. He was trying to do that himself.

[See? You can't blame us on that one.]

{Yep! You're being all Batman!}

[You know we can't talk about the crossovers!]

{Shit! I forgot!}

"What kind of shit is this?!" Wade growled at them.

{[What?]}

"You're in my head! You have to in some way shape or form see what I'm trying to do here! You can't just go agreeing with the kid that we have never met!"

{Ooooh! Someone is jealous!}

[We see what you're trying to do. We just don't think it's working.]

{Yeah! You are always so mad about the tingles man! The tingles! Like that creepy fucking green suit fairy wannabe in Legend of Zelda!}

[I think what he's trying to say is that you haven't gotten a decent job lately all because of how distracted you've been. Maybe if you let him in a bit, you'll actually be able to focus.]

{That's what I said!}

[More or less.]

"Okay. Seriously guys?"

[I'm always serious.]

{It's true. He's really a joykill.}

Wade sighed, rubbing his forehead with yellow, rubber gloves, "Fine. We'll talk with him. BUT! Only if he talks to me. I'm not going to try and start anything with this kid. He doesn't need my craziness in his life."

{Too late.}

[Who are you trying to convince?]

Wade growled, but couldn't reply. He hated to admit it, but he almost felt happy. He knew he could never meet Peter. He couldn't bring him down, but at least he had someone to talk with. It was better than nothing. It was almost freeing. Peter would never see him or know anything other than what he would tell him. He could weave any story that he wanted.

~*~

_‘Soo…’_

 

_'It is hot as balls out here.'_

 

_'What are you talking about? I'm freezing! Where are you that you're hot?!'_

 

_'Uhhh... Shit. Forget that!'_

 

_'I can't do that W. It's kinda written in my arm.'_

 

_'Ffffuuuuuck! Be a good boy and ignore that, hm?'_

 

_'Sure W. Whatever you want.'_

  


~*~

_'Merry Christmas W'_

 

_'Merry Christmas Peter. Hope you got some good loot!'_

 

_'Pretty decent. New camera.'_

 

_'Sweeeet!'_

 

_'What about you?'_

 

_'Ah... Yeah I didn't get anything'_

 

_'Nothing? What about your family?'_

 

_'...'_

~*~

_'Kill me please.'_

 

_'Uh, why?'_

 

_'MJ drug me to a shitty rendition of the notebook live. W, please. Save me.'_

 

_'Sorry Baby boy. You're on your own.'_

 

_'Some soul mate you are!'_

 

_'Tell MJ that I approve of torture, but there are better bad films to torture too.'_

 

_'I will.'_

_'She smiled and said that she knows. Oh god. You have talked with her, haven't you?'_

 

_'Peter. I have no idea what you even look like. How am I supposed to talk with your friends?'_

 

_'I don't know! GAH! This movie is killing me!'_

 

_'I doubt that.'_

 

_'Spoil sport.'_

 

_'Peter. Talk to me after you watch 'The Room' on repeat for a full 72 hours.'_

 

_'OMG, why would do that to yourself?!'_

 

_‘TV marathon. And there was quite literally nothing else on. I blew my brains out.'_

 

_'I hope you are saying that figuratively.'_

 

_'We wouldn't be talking if I wasn't.'_

~*~

_'I'm so nervous.'_

 

_'You'll be fine. We were studying for the past few days.'_

 

_'I know, but what if my brain goes blank while I'm taking the test! My future here depends on this.'_

 

_'You're so dramatic.'_

 

_'Shut up.'_

 

_'I'm just saying Petey. You've got nothing to worry about. I know more than I ever wanted to know about bio-engineering.'_

 

_'Wish me luck. I'm going in!'_

 

_'Luck! But you don't need it!'_

 

_'How'd it go?'_

 

_'You called me Petey?'_

 

_'Oh shit. I guess I did... Sorry Peter.'_

 

_'No! No... It's fine. I liked it actually.'_

  


~*~

_'So where did you disappear last night there baby boy?'_

  
  


_'Sorry! I crashed hardcore!'_

 

_'Suuuure you did.'_

 

_'I'm not lying!'_

 

_'Don't worry about it. I was busy too. So I wouldn't have been able to answer.'_

 

_'Oh? What were YOU doing?'_

 

_'Kickin' butt and takin' names.'_

 

_'Ha. Ha. Yeah right.'_

 

_'Believe what you want! I happen to know a very important person around these parts!'_

 

_'Oh yeah? Who?'_

 

_'Awww.... Are you jealous?'_

 

_'W, seriously? I need to actually meet you before I can be really jealous.'_

 

_'You're so cute when you angrily write at me.'_

 

_'But yes. Now spill!'_

 

_'I'll give you a hint!'_

 

_'Kay.'_

 

_'He's got a GREAT butt!'_

 

_'That's not helpful in any way.'_

 

_'Sure it does! You just suck at understanding hints!'_

~*~

_'So today is my birthday.'_

 

_'Shit really!? Why didn't you tell me!?'_

 

_'Dunno. Guess it just slipped my mind.'_

 

_'Well Happy birthday anyways Petey!'_

 

_'Thanks.'_

 

_'You okay?'_

 

_'Fine.'_

~*~

_'I just gave candy to a kid who was dressed up in a Spiderman outfit.'_

 

_'CUTE!'_

 

_'It's a little weird but yeah.'_

 

_'Why is it weird? Unless you're living under a rock, he's kinda a big deal around here.'_

 

_'Well yeah, but it's still weird, isn't it?'_

 

_'Dunno why it would be. Kids dress up like Captain America and Hulk all the time. Why would Spiderman be any different?'_

 

_'You're right. As usual.'_

 

_'Aaaaah. Those are words I will never erase from my skin.'_

 

_'Don't be smug W. It doesn't suit you well!'_

 

_'CAN'T READ YOU PETEY!'_

~*~

_'Merry Christmas baby boy! I hope you get everythin' you want!'_  
  
  
_'I want you here.'_  
  
  
_'Peter.'_  
  
  
_'No W. I'm serious. This sucks.'_  
  
  
_'You know why.'_  
  
  
_'It's a bullshit excuse.'_  
  
  
_'Tsk Tsk Peter. Language on Christmas.'_  
  
  
_'I don't care!'_  
  
_'Peter.'_  
  
  
_'No. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to read your excuses! I want you here! I want to actually meet you! I want to actually say these words to you instead of writing them! This has been the most miserable year of my life! I don't want to read these anymore! I want to actually hear you say Merry Christmas!'_  
  
  
_'Alright fine.'_  
  
  
_'...'_  
  
_'W?'_  
  
_'W please.'_  
  
_'I'm sorry...'_  
  
_'W please write back.'_  
  
_'...'_  
  


~*~

_'W?'_

_'I know you're getting these.'_

_‘Please W. At least give me something to know you're okay.'_

_'...'_

_'I didn't mean what I said.'_

_'You can't go silent on me now!'_

_'W!'_

~*~

_'Could really use my study buddy.'_

~*~

_'I'm sorry.'_

~*~

_'W. Please come back.'_

_'I miss our talks.'_

_'I miss you.'_

 

Peter looked down at the last words that he had written to W. It had been a few months since he had gotten any response from him. He was angry. He was thoroughly pissed if he was honest. What kind of baby would just straight up ignore their soul mate for this long? He wanted him to reply back just so he could ignore him. Give him a taste of his own medicine. As soon as that thought slipped his head, he groaned. He knew he wouldn't. He'd instantly reply back, poking and prodding W about why he suddenly would reply back now.

He tried to busy himself. He tried to get back to his old routine when he thought W didn't exist or even after he first got his first mark, but nothing worked. He tried to cram every second of every day with something to keep himself busy. He spent most of his nights out as Spiderman now. He would skip some work days, claiming he was after a good shot, in order to fill them with more patrols. Fighting crime was a better time spender than homework any day. At least when he was fighting, he had to focus on not getting hit or dying. It help fill a void that had settled in his stomach.

His schoolwork had begun to suffer. Without his constant study buddy, he had to seek out a physical study group to go to in order to get some kind of help. Most of the time, it was the other members talking about the gossip that was going on campus. He didn't care one way or another, but after they got their gossip out, they help each other with their work. So there was some good to it.

'I should be on patrol.' He thought to himself as he walked back to his apartment. He cursed himself for not thinking ahead and being prepared. He could have stashed his backpack at his college and went straight into his patrol for the night. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, grumbling to himself. His spidey sense kicked in full force when he heard a shout coming from nearby. The closer he got, the strong his sense got until it began giving him a headache. As he walked around the corner. He saw a red and black suit hovering angrily over a man. The man was visibly shaking and trying to plead to the man standing over him. The light was hitting the katanas in the perfect way, giving Peter all the information he needed to know who this was.

Deadpool.

He had heard rumors about him and had even run into him once when he was on patrol. He acted like a big kid, trying to get his attention. He made sure to avoid him at all costs. He didn't need his already tattered reputation getting worse from being around the merc with the mouth. Now he really hated himself for forgetting his suit. There was only so many whimpers that he could take before he had to step in and when he saw Deadpool move towards the man; he had to intervene.

"H-hey!" He called out.

 

Deadpool froze when he heard the voice. His level for handling annoying people was already overflowing, especially when the worm that was on the ground before him had tried to give him the slip. His grip tightened as he looked over his shoulder to see a man? Boy? He wasn't exactly sure, all he knew was they looked jailbaity and was trying to distract him. He growled before turning back toward the man and gruffly said, "Leave Twink."  
  
When he didn't hear the sound of shoes running away, his growl turned into a snarl. He slammed one of his katanas into the leg of the man. A good chunk of the sword disappeared into the ground and the man’s leg. The man let out an ugly scream of pain as he attempted to grab the katana, trying in vain to get it out.  
  
"Are you deaf or just stupid?" He turned menacingly towards Peter, "I told you to leave. I don't exactly like having an alive audience around for when I un-alive someone."  
  
"Killing people is wrong!" Peter told him.  
  
"Is it now?" Deadpool tapped on his chin. He was trying to figure out if this kid was brave or just really stupid. "You see, the funny part of that whole thing is that I don't care. I'm not someone who does the right thing and if un-alivin’ bad, bad people is wrong, then let me tell you kid. I don't wanna be right." He took a step towards him, using his height as an advance to scare him off, "Now if you don't mind leavin'. I'd really hate to have to kill a cute kid like you."  
  
"I'm not going anywhere." Peter said stubbornly.  
  
"Oh that's cute; you think there was a choice." He smirked through his mask, "No you see. Staying here isn't an option, you're going to be leaving or I'll take this other very sharp and shiny katana and gut you. Leave."  
  
"No."  
  
"I can't decide if you're stupid or brave kid. Fill me in, hm?" Behind him, he could hear the man struggling to get free. He didn't bother looking behind him as he took out his pistol and shot him in the middle of his forehead. All he had to do was watch the expression on Peter's face to see that he had hit his target in the exact spot he had wanted.  
  
"Why did yo-"  
  
"I did try to tell ya kid." He holstered his pistol, "Now. Leave or else you'll be joining him on the ground." He did a once over on Peter before deciding that he could easily take care of him without making his other katana dirty. He clicked it back into its casing on his back. He watched the boy before letting out a sigh, "Come on, just go. I hate un-alivin' when I'm not getting pa-!" He wasn't expecting the fist that connected with his jaw to be as strong as it was.  
  
"Well now..." He chuckles, stumbling backwards from the strength of the punch. He could even swear he was tasting blood, but that's not going to stop him. "Who knew you had such a punch there baby boy? You wanna play?"  
  
Peter looked at his own fist which was still hanging in the air. His mouth drops as he turns to look at Deadpool, "I-uh."  
  
"Oh come on now sweetums. You can't just hit a man and expect him not to respond. How about this? I'll give you a head start if that is what you want. You wanna run, huh? Go on."  
  
Peter stared at him.  
  
Wade let out an annoyed groan, "Oh come on! What fun is it if you don't give me a chase? Seriously? Have you never seen an action movie in your life?" He dropped his shoulders and threw back his head, "Kids these days!"  
  
"I-I'm not going to run!"  
  
"Oh? Alright. Straight to business." He perked up, looking at him. He didn't waste another moment and grabbed Peter by the front of his jacket, pulling him in close, "I can do that."  
  
Peter's hand landed on Deadpool's gloved fists. He dug his fingers in, trying to get his fists to loosen in any way. No luck. So he shifted his hands to start pulling on his arms.  
  
"Grabby little thing, aren't ya? Normally I'd be all over that baby boy, but you see. I have a date with a gun tonight. Can't miss it." His fists remained steady as he pulled Peter into the alleyway. He slammed Peter into the brick wall and got up close to him. He growled as he felt his sleeves move a little. How strong was this kid? Was he dealing with a mutant? No, he would have heard about this kid from Wolverine. He felt his sleeves move further down his arm, exposing his skin. He snarled and slammed Peter into the wall again harder, "Knock it off!"  
  


~*~

Peter's breath got knocked out as his head collides with the wall. He was pretty sure that he was going to have a concussion and if this kept up, he was going to be crushed. He needed to do something. He needed to focus. There was some buzzing going on in his ears making everything muffled added onto his screaming spidey sense. He couldn't react quickly enough. He gripped tighter on the sleeves. He could tell they were made from leather; maybe he could distract him with ripping it off. Deadpool was the kind of guy who would care about his suit, right? God, he hoped so. As Deadpool brought him away from the wall again, getting ready to slam him again, he let his hands slip and barely getting a grip on the sleeves again. He closed his eyes as he felt the fabric tear beneath his fingertips.

"MOTHER FUCKER!" He heard Deadpool growl. He felt the grip on his chest loosen and he opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was his arms. They were covered in bumps and grooves. So the rumors of him being scarred were true; that was good to know. He wished that was the only thing he noticed, but his heart dropped into his stomach when he saw telltale words that were burned onto his own skin.

_'W. Please come back.'_

_'I miss our talks.'_

_'I miss you.'_

He couldn't breathe. Deadpool! Seriously?! Who could have predicted this? The person he had been missing, longing for was right in front of him, about to kill him. Deadpool's grip was nonexistent and he was retreating away from Peter. Now was his chance for leaving. He should run, he needed to get away, but his body was in shock.

"NO class man! You don't ruin a man's suit like that!" He heard Deadpool ramble on. Something about hearing his voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked up at Deadpool with wide eyes before bolting. He ran and he didn't look back. He needed to get home. He had to get away from him.

  


~*~

"Hey!" Wade called after him.

[Yeah, way to go genius. What did you expect him to do?]

"I don't know!" He groaned, "Fuck! Now I have to chase after him."

{You wanted him to run anyways! We're like a predator!}

[Not helping. He probably got scared off with your "skin"]

{Are you ever going to tell me how you do the quotes? I've always wanted to ask!}

[Dunno. Writer's privilege.]

{Bullshit! She favors you man!}

[Let's be honest. I'm the most sane one here.]

{Well I'm more fun. So there!}

"Shut up. Wait." He froze, "You said skin, yeah?"

{I didn't!}

[I did though, yeah. You know it makes people wanna barf.]

Wade looked down at his arm, "No... No I've seen when people want to lose their lunch. That wasn't that face. That was the face of someone who realized something."

{What could he have POSSIBLY realized?}

[...]

{Earth to White!}

[Seriously? NOW!? That is the worst reveal ever.]

{Uhhh.... Okay, I'm slow. Explain it to a brother.}

[Moron. What fic is this?!]

{Is it the one where Spiderman dies?}

[No.]

{Then I don't know.}

"That was Peter." Wade looked at the direction that he had run off in.

{Oh.}

Wade stood there for a moment, frozen in his own thoughts. He had almost killed Peter. He had almost hit him hard enough into the wall that he would have been nothing but a pulp of human flesh. Only he could get himself into a situation like this. Only he could take a moment that was supposed to be happy and joyful and turn it into almost murder. A realization struck him as he stood there. Peter had run off. If he had ANY chance to make up for what he had nearly done, he needed to run after him and he needed to move now. He didn't spare another moment as he dashed after Peter. He had no idea where he was going, but there had to be signs of Peter running at a breakneck speed, right?

[Yeah, this is great and all, but how are you going to explain to the kid that you've ignored him for the past few months?]

{I remember him telling us to stop talking}

[Your memory is faulty. He didn't say that.]

{Are you suuurrreee?}

[Yeah. He was sick of talking through their skin. Seriously, I don't blame him.]

{Yeah, but if they would have stopped and met up, then this whole thing would have been avoided!}

[Yeah, attempted murder of your soul mate is definitely something that you want to miss.]

{Exactly!}

[Sarcasm Yellow, we've gone over this.]

{Damn it! You need to make it more obvious!}

"Guys. Normally I would ignore you, but I could seriously use your help here." He growled as he ran down the sidewalk, looking around him.

{Oh right, we're doing the chase right now, huh? Well, he could have dropped something.}

[Right, like he would do something like that. It's not like he's going to drop an ID or something like th-]

"Ah!" Wade skidded to a stop and grabbed a thin, brown wallet.

[Are you shitting me?]

{Never underestimate the writer lady!}

[Cheap! So many cliches here.]

Wade began fiddling with it. He started with looking to see if there was any cash. He wasn't a saint. Unluckily for him, there was nothing. There was a few credit cards, a student id, and then the most helpful piece of information, a driver's license. He read the address and it was close. He did give him a scare, so maybe he had a safer place that he wanted to go to, but this was his best lead. He darted towards the building. It took a few minutes, but when he arrived, he saw that it was a small, old brick building, only a few stories and most of the lights were out. He glanced down the alley and found the fire escape, his best way in.

As he climbed upwards, he glanced into each window that had a light shining from it. Each one was a dead end, but he did get side tracked at one window when he heard the sounds of a couple clearing enjoying each other's company. He smirked, sparing a few seconds to be a perv.

[Get a room]

{I wonder what Petey sounds like?}

[You're seriously going to ask that now?!]

{What?! It's a serious questions!}

[No. No it's not. I doubt the big guy is going to get lucky ANY time soon. He did just try to, oh I don't know, KILL HIM!]

{Gosh, always so dramatic.}

Wade shook his head, snapping back to focus. He glanced up in time to see a light snap on. Bingo. That was where he needed to go. The next few fire escapes took no time. When he finally got to Peter's window, he watched him race into his bedroom. Perfect timing, that should give him plenty of time to open up the window and slide in.

[Oh yeah, real smart. Then what are you going to do?]

{Say sorry?}

[Oh and that should go over well]

{That's how it always works in cheesy rom coms!}

[This isn't a movie Yellow.]

{Nope! This is a fic! It's even better than a movie!}

Wade growled, pulling out a knife as he jiggled the window open. He slowly slide the window open enough for him to slide in. He landed with a soft thud. Silently cursed himself as he slide the knife back into its secret spot. He heard rustling in the bedroom. He was probably throwing things together a bag so he could hide away somewhere. He needed to be quick. He walked behind the couch, making sure to take a look around. It was a small place, tiny kitchen with an island like table. The living room had a small couch and an older tv. There was a closed door that Wade could only assume to be the bathroom and the bedroom where the light was pouring out onto the still darkened living room. He took his time to get closer to the bedroom door, using the darkness to his advantage. When he got close enough, he looked in to see Peter's back to the door, busy throwing clothes into his bag. The closet was open and he saw a very distinct looking blue and red suit.

"You have got to be shitting me." Wade mouthed to himself. He was learning too much for his brain to comprehend tonight. He was going to need to sleep this off. He moved to stand in the doorway, his head tilted as he watched Peter turn around quickly. Peter let out a loud gasp; clearly he hadn't sensed Wade being there. He just smirked and moved quickly to grab Peter by his throat, pinning him down on the bed.

"Hello Peter."

Peter's face revealed a sense of fear and understanding that confused Wade.

"I wish you weren't so smart."

"Awww... Why do you hurt me so Petey?" Wade laid on a sickly sweet voice to mock him.

Peter sneered up at him, "Hurt you?! Fuck you Deadpool! Or do you want me to call you W still!"

"Ah, ah!" Wade's grip tightened on Peter's throat, "Don't piss me off baby boy. Remember who has the upper hand here."

"If you're going to kill me. Do it."

"Now why would I kill you, hm?"

"Weren't you teasing and mocking me in the alley back there?"

"I was." He  admitted, "But that was before I knew."

"Oh, so just because I'm your soul mate you're suddenly going to change?!"

"I wouldn't say change there sweetums. People don't change. I will however, like to talk if you still want too."

"Oh NOW you want to fucking talk!"

"Language Peter. I never knew you had such a mouth on you." He smirked as he leaned closer to Peter's face, "Makes me wonder what else it might be good for."

Peter growled, blushing at what he was insinuating, "Fuck off."

"Mmm. No. Not yet."

Peter glared at him, "So what? You break in here just to manhandle me and to be a dick?"

"Actually, I had intended on coming in here and sweeping you off your feet and kissing you senseless."

Peter bitterly laughed, "Yeah, good luck with that because if you even try, I'll bite your lips off."

"Kinky." Deadpool purred at him.

Peter stared up at him. So this was W. He wasn't kidding when he said dangerous. Maybe this was too much danger for him; clearly he had pissed someone off in a past life to end up here. This was not how he had imagined meeting W for the first time. He thought it would be sweet, maybe all those romance movies had finally got to him. He looked into the emotionless mask. He huffed out a breath in agitation.

Wade heard Peter's breath and pulled his hand away. His shoulders visibly sagged as he hung his head, "Listen. I'm sorry, alright?"

Peter's eyes went wide. This was not what he thought would happen. He felt Deadpool get off of him, letting him sit up to watch him take a few steps away from the bed.

"I won't say I'm completely sorry, but I am a little sorry. I did warn you, but you kept fucking poking at me. You were driving me crazy. Seriously, do you know how god damn annoying it is to try and hold a gun when your whole arm is tingling and shaking from being ignored?!" Wade brought his hands to his head, digging into his mask as he let out an annoyed whine, "It blows Petey. I was going to spend the rest of your life ignoring you until you gave up again. I swear. I was just going to forget that you existed, but then you asked that stupid damn question. I have no idea what got into me, but I had to answer. Seriously, how could you NOT know why the British invaded India. Seriously have you never heard of the movie Gandhi?!"

Peter watched Deadpool begin to pace in front of him. Although his shoulders were sagged, he could tell he was on a hair thin trigger. So he stayed silent and listened to him ramble.

"Fucking, then you kept doing it! You kept writing to me! I wanted to ignore you. I kept telling myself to stop, but no. I didn't listen. Then you snaked in. You just curled up inside of my head and I couldn't let go. Do you know how hard it was to stop talking to you again? Do you know how difficult it was to stop after going for so long? Do you know how much it sucked to hear that what we had wasn’t good enough anymore?!" Wade turned his attention to Peter, staring at him.  
At first, he had no idea how to respond. It was clear that he wanted Peter to say something. He opened his mouth, but quickly closed it. What was he going to say?

"I didn't want you to stop."

"Yes you fucking did. Talking wasn't enough for you. You wanted more when I had told you that we couldn't. I fucking TOLD you Peter!" Wade roared at him.

Peter was sure that if Deadpool had something in his hand, he would have destroyed it, "You did." He said in a small voice, "And I couldn't accept that. Do you seriously think that you're the only one who suffered with this? How about the fact that you are forced to watch everyone else get their markings, but you're the freak that didn't get anything. You're the freak that wasn't good enough. You're the freak that believes that he won't be loved." Peter shoved himself off the bed and stormed over to Deadpool. "You look here W. I didn't care that you were dangerous. I just wanted to meet you! I wanted you to see that I could handle it."

Wade laughed, "Ha! Handle it?! Oh yeah, your little display in the alley was really handling it Peter. Grade A handling. I was going to fucking KILL you!" He clutched his hands into fists, "You can't handle that kind of danger. Sure you've suffered, but so what? Seriously, do you want me to feel bad for you? Oh boo hoo, poor little Spidey got his fweelings hurt. Everyone else is getting something that they think they want, but not him. Oh boo hoo hoo!"

Peter's eyes widened for a moment before narrowing. He clutched his own hands into fists, but went a step further than Wade. He threw a punch again, aiming to hit him square in the jaw. He wanted to hit him so hard. How DARE he say this to him? He would have hit Wade too if he hadn't had grabbed Peter’s wrist and stopped him, "Let me go."

Wade remained silent as he held his wrist in a tight grip. He looked down at Peter. He really looked at him. Sure, he saw a skinny kid that clearly looked like he was jailbait, but he also began to see Spiderman. He wouldn't tell a soul, but he had watched Spiderman. Almost admired the way he stuck to his guns about nonlethal combat, but still thought it was a stupid thing to do, especially when his villains kept coming back like a bad itch. He tilted his head and turned his attention to the fist that had lost some of the anger behind it. This kid had hit him hard enough to knock him back. That was something he had to respect that. Sure there were people that could do that, but to come from this skinny, nerdy kid was something else. He was full of surprises. Maybe. Maybe he should give him a chance.

"Wade."

"Huh?" Peter looked up at him in shock.

"Name's Wade. Since you've seen what I do, figured you at least deserve that. Seems stupid to be called W when you've seen me unalive someone."

Peter looked at him, "Wade. Well, can you let go of my wrist?"

Wade took in a slow breath before letting go, "How about we start over?"

Peter rubbed his wrist, while keeping his eye on him, "Probably would be the best."

Wade let out a slow chuckle, "Wade Wilson. Also known as Deadpool." He pushed his hand out to Peter.

Peter glanced down at his hand and then back up at him. He slowly took his hand and gave it a shake, "Peter Parker or Spiderman."

"Well Spidey." Wade let go of Peter's hand, "Has anyone ever told you that you have a great ass?"  


"I'm calling the cops. Get out."

**Author's Note:**

> So I decided that after my sad fic that I wrote with spideypool, you guys deserved a happier one.
> 
> I know it still has angst and is kinda grumpy in some parts, but still! Ending was fluff! I'm not a pure fluff writer, so I am sorry for that. I hope you guys enjoyed reading this! I had a blast writing it and it makes me look forward to my next story. I have started a longer series, so stay tuned for that!
> 
> Please let me know if you see any errors, this is un-beta'd


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